Rhonda took another bite, for the first time in ages dumbstruck. Without meaning to, she blurted, "He saved me in a snowstorm the other day."
Claire glanced up. "What?"
"Yeah. I was driving home from Edmonton, and the snow got so bad I couldn't see anything. I pulled over on the side of the road. He had called me to tell me about this meeting with the doctor at the hospital, and I think I hung up on him. I don't even remember. I was so stressed out. Twenty minutes later, he showed up in his truck, helped me get my car off the road, and drove me home." She left out the end of that story, but a blush rose to her cheeks. She cleared her throat. "Anyway, I guess I see what you're talking about."
Claire dabbed her lips with a napkin. "Yeah. That sounds like my brother. Maybe your team needs to hear stories like that."
They finished their meal, and Rhonda got a few more specifics about Claire's journey with Reviact. She was sober for two weeks, which Claire said she'd accomplished before, but never so painlessly. Rhonda gave Claire her number and asked her to give her an update at the end of the month if she was up for it.
They went their separate ways, but by the time Rhonda got in her car, she couldn't stop her hands from shaking.That sounded like my brother.Jordan had gotten her a meeting with Mallory. He'd saved her from a freaking snowstorm. And what had she done in return?
Absolutely nothing.
But whatcouldshe do in return? Sitting in the front seat of her car, she felt so vulnerable, she wanted to throw up. Doing something in return, saying thank you, would mean admitting that she needed the help.
It would mean accepting that she couldn't do everything on her own. And what Jordan had done for her was so big, so astronomical. How could she ever begin to repay it?
This was why she didn't accept help. She didn't want to be in anyone's debt. But the idea of returning to her house and doing nothing opened up a chasm so deep her eyes nearly welled up.
Rhonda started her car and drove toward Jordan's apartment complex. On the way, she stopped at a co-op and went in, spending an exorbitant amount of time searching for something to drop off that wouldn't be completely pathetic. Did he like sweets or savory? She didn't even know.
She ended up with a package of brownie bites, some gourmet cheese, olives, and freshly baked sourdough. It was a ridiculous concoction, but it was the only thing she could come up with.
Rhonda drove the rest of the way, not even having to plug it into her maps app. All it took was one time with him, and she had everything memorized.
Before she could second guess herself, she flung herself from the car, grabbed the grocery sack, and strode to the elevator. When she arrived on his floor, she walked down the hall as quietly as possible, set the items down in front of his door, and was about to walk away when a male voice behind her said,
"Hey, Rhonda."
She nearly jumped out of her skin, and in so doing, slammed her hand against Jordan's door. She spun. Darcy stood ahead of her in the hall. Before she could open her mouth, the door behind her swung open.
Chapter
Twenty
Jordan
Jordan openedthe door and stopped cold, his hand still gripping the handle as if letting go might knock the moment off balance. Rhonda stood in the hall, crouched in a hockey stance, but she faced away from him, staring at something in front of her.
She spun to face him, her lips slightly parted, like she’d frozen mid-breath. Her hair bounced, and one curl looped just shy of her cheekbone, framing a faint freckle he’d never noticed before.
He became acutely aware that he was in sweats and an old T-shirt.Why was she here?
His pulse raced as he took a step forward, but Rhonda put out a hand. “Don’t—you’re going to step on it!” she shouted, and Jordan jumped back. He looked down and saw a pile of . . . food?
He gave Rhonda a questioning glance, then leaned out to see what was hogging her attention. There, leaning against the doorframe of his apartment, was Darcy McClellan. His blond faux hawk a bit mussed, his arms crossed over his chest.
He didn’t have to say anything. The smirk on his face was communication enough.
Rhonda straightened. “This is—I was just dropping this off. For a work thing.”
Darcy nodded slowly. “Uh-huh.” He strode forward, then stopped at the sound of another door clicking open.
“Hey, babe—” A woman with shoulder-length auburn hair ran out into the hall wearing a silk nightie that barely covered her underwear. If she was wearing any.
“Ginger?” Rhonda looked between the two of them. “How long has this been going on?”
Darcy shoved his hands in his pockets. “You’re the one bringing bread and cheese”